The King and the Fallen Prince
by Fourticktock
Summary: When Loki falls, he falls not into darkness, but to Middle-Earth. There he meets a blue wizard, who promises to lead him west to find his way home. But passing into the west means going through Mirkwood, and the Elvenking's Halls. Will Loki manage to get home before he is ensnared in the dangerous events about to unfold in Middle-Earth? Loki/Thranduil, post-Hobbit, pre-LotR.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: The King and the Fallen Prince

**Fandoms**: Thor (post-movie 1), Tolkien (movieverse and books)

**Pairing**: Loki/Thranduil

All "extra notes" are for those who would like a bit of extra background, for example if you've never read the books. Feel free to offer corrections or ask for more info.

**Extra Note on eastern Middle-Earth**: Tolkien didn't really flesh out the people in the east, nor the exact role of the Blue Wizards, except that they worked against Sauron's influence. Most of the details are my own except their names, and place-names, which are (as everything else from that universe) property of the Tolkien estate. I would like to say its extremely hard to find good maps of these areas (even though I have an Atlas of Middle-Earth at home) but I'm assuming not many are as nerdy as I am.

-:-

For days the falling star made the night brighter, but wise-folk could not discern its meaning. Some said it foretold of darker days ahead, others that it was the dawning of a new era. The dwarves of Erebor took it as a sign that their reclaiming of the Mountain was blessed, while the people further east took it to their hearts each in his own way, as was the custom of the peoples there.

When the star finally fell, its path took it across the sky to the east. Many were afraid at seeing its fiery trail, but as it led away from all good folk and landed where no man saw it, people quickly forgot it had ever appeared in the sky at all.

Only a wizard walked the long way to find its final resting place. It lay just beyond the peaks of the Blue Mountain, overlooking the sea of Helcar, on whose eastern shore lay the Waters of Awakening where once elves had awakened to the world. It was not an elf that awoke in the Mark of the Star, but a being from another world.

The wizard was an old man in appearance, white of hair and beard, with blue robes and a brimless blue pointed hat that flopped backwards in the wind and did little to protect his ears. He carried always with him a brown bag slung over his shoulder, and his wooden walking stick, topped with a blue stone.

The blue-clad wizard found the Mark of the Star on the top of a mountain, or what was left or it. The top of it had gone completely, replaced by an enormous crater, which he called the Mark. He climbed all the way to its ridge, and saw that in its centre lay a man, or a creature alike in shape at least.

He used his staff to quickly descend the gravelly side of the new slope.

The man in the middle of the crater was long and slim, wearing green armour. His hair was short and black, and his skin pale as the elves, and as beautiful. He looked young, no more than twenty for a man.

The wizard looked him over, walking all the way around him to observe from every angle, before poking him not-too-gently with his stick. The young man opened his eyes.

At first he seemed confused, then amazed, then afraid. He sat up quickly, taking in the strange place he was in before noticing the blue wizard. He looked at him as if he was a ghost.

'Where am I?' the man asked in the common tongue, or by some magic made it seem that way.

'I take it you mean somewhere wider than this particular mountain,' the blue wizard said with a kind yet mischievous voice. 'So, I shall begin as wide as I can go. You are on the world called by some Arda. For most of its inhabitants, it is the only world they know. You are on the second continent, which by some is called Ennorath, or simply Middle-Earth. You are in the north-eastern part of that continent, in an area known to some as Rhûn, or East-Dorwinion. The mountain you are on is part of the lesser Blue Mountains, overlooking the inland sea of Helcar to the east. The land and climate are good, and well-suited to the making of wine, but I would warn you of creatures that travel by night. Orcs and goblins they are called. There are bears and wolves as well, but they seldom trouble those with fire and blade. Some men of this land serve the Darkness to the south, but mostly they are a friendly, if reserved folk.'

The long speech left the visitor wide-eyed and even more confused. He looked about himself as if to spot the joke. He rose and tested his footing, but the ground was solid.

'I am alive,' he said.

'Indeed. You do not appear to me as a ghost or spirit.'

'I... I fell,' the young man looked up at the sky.

'Yes, for many days.'

'Days?'

'Almost a week.'

'The Bifrost must have done something to me.' He looked about the ground for some sign. 'It was broken, but there must have still been vast amounts of energy-' he stopped, fixing his stare on the wizard again. 'Do you know of what I speak?'

'I have not heard of a Bifrost,' the wizard said. 'I have the ability to travel to only one other world, and that is only once, and in one direction.'

'But you have magic? I sense it.'

'Indeed, I am known as the Blue Wizard. Some call me Morinehtar, or Alatar, or for a more dramatic naming, they might use Darkness-Slayer.'

'Darkness-Slayer?' the man almost smiled. 'You have great power?'

'As great as my brother, Pallando, but we are not the greatest among our Order. If it is a way home you seek, then it is the Head of our Order you must ask.'

'Home,' the young man looked stricken at the thought. He looked to the sky. It was a cloudless day, and far too bright to see which star he had come from. 'Yes, I suppose I must get back, somehow. To one of the Nine Realms at least.'

'I will take you to him,' the blue wizard offered.

'Why? Why would you help me?'

'There is a Darkness in this world,' the blue wizard said, 'its power grows almost daily. A foreign magic such as yours can only be trouble. For you, or for us.' He gave the young man such a fierce look, the man knew at once the old wizard was more than just old, he was ancient. 'Be warned, He does not share power. To survive unspoiled, you would do best to go back to the heavens as quickly as possible, and only Saruman can help with that.'

'Then lead me to this Saruman,' the young man said. 'Is it far?'

'Many weeks even as the crow flies. We would do best to stay out of the wilderness, and there is no direct road out of the east. We must go north first, then west, then south.'

'That sounds like a long way round.'

'A safer way usually is.'

'So be it,' the young man looked frustrated by the news, but resigned. He looked up towards the edge of his crater. 'Which way off this blue mountain?'

'That way,' the wizard pointed. 'Might I have your name before we set off?'

'I am Loki, of-' he stopped himself a moment, but then pushed through. 'Of Asgard.'

'Asgard is your world?'

'Yes, one of many united together.'

'Well, Loki of Asgard, until you are returned to your home-world, I would caution you against speaking of it. Elves and wizards are accustomed to another world above our own, but men and other folk are not. If you must call yourself anything, say Loki of Cuiviénen.'

'What would that signify?'

'It means you are an Avari elf. They are seldom seen by men, even those who dwell here on the shores of Helcar, and many myths surround them. They are dark of hair and pale of skin, like you. Cover your ears with your hair, or create a pointed tip with an illusion, and most will accept the fact with due reverence.'

The man touched his hands to his ears, closed his eyes a moment, and then removed them. His ears were now slightly pointed. 'Will this suit?'

'Well enough for simple folk,' the wizard said amicably. He began climbing the side of the crater. 'Come along, we have a long way to go.'

XXX

The walk off the mountain was conducted in absolute silence. Loki was trying to remember his fall from the Bifrost, but everything after he had let go was a muddled mess. Darkness and light, flashing back and forth, was the only thing he could recall. The blue wizard, Alatar, seemed like a simple old man, but Loki feared that was a disguise. Magic radiated out from him, most of it from his staff. The blue stone on its end was clearly very special. Although it was likely he was being led to his doom, he could not do much else but follow. Sitting on the mountain the rest of his existence was not appealing, and until he found some other creature that could be of more use, this was his only route.

The landscape around grew more and more lush as they descended the mountain east and north. Sometimes, when they traversed the peak of a smaller mountain, they could glimpse a glittering promise of a wide inland sea. Alatar said this was lake Rhûn, and by its shores they would find the Men of Rhûn. With any luck, the men would could be hired to take them up the river Celdiun, or river Running, as the locals named it. It would take them as far north as they needed to go, and long on their way west.

Once down into the shallow valleys, the landscape alternated between wide open fields and dense forests. There were farms on all the best eastern-facing slopes, but the wizard kept them on the small dirt road and would not seek shelter. He claimed many of these men served the Dark Lord, the ruler to the south, and he was not welcomed among them. In such uncertain times, it was best to brave the forests at night, even with the threat of Orcs.

Loki saw few people, and he wondered if they did not hide away when they saw someone unknown approach, or if they saw that it was the blue wizard.

Once over the last high hills before the Sea of Rhûn, they saw a wide dense forest on the western slopes, but the wizard said the path was easy to follow. Beyond the forest lay the Sea, almost wide enough to reach the horizon. There was one big island to the south-west, and Loki could see settlements all along the eastern shores, moving north and west. Far in this direction he spied the river. So far, everything the wizard had told him had been accurate.

They slept on the hill before going down. Loki's dreams were troubling. Fingers slipping, Thor's stricken face, Odin's unfeeling gaze. He woke in a sweat, and the wizard gave him some tea, but Loki declined. He would only drink water directly from good streams they passed.

He should be dead, but instead he was on a planet not part of the Nine, full of magic. He could not help but be fascinated, and that helped push the Fall from his mind.

The Men of Rhûn were wary of them, and even with many gold coins, they would not take them on their boats. They seemed primitive to Loki, and reminded him of Midgard in many ways. But they made better wine than most. They eyed Loki with undisguised fear and suspicion. Alatar managed to purchase horses and supplies, and they set off along the river's eastern shores. They would cross it when they came to Lake Town, according to Alatar, underneath the great dwarfish kingdom of Erebor. Loki had little contact with the dwarfs of Svartalheimr, but he knew them to be stubborn and greedy. From the way Alatar described them here, they must be very similar. Alatar hoped to avoid contact with them. They mistrusted wizards, and elves even more so.

At night they did not light fires, for Alatar feared orc-packs or unfriendly men. The dark put Loki in a sour mood. He gazed up at the stars, but their arrangements were foreign to him. He must be far away from the Nine. A part of him wondered if it was his fate to die here. Thor and Odin most likely thought him dead already. They had no doubt given a sigh of relief at his loss. The frost-giant was no more. He had to wonder what they had told Frigga. Although it pained him, he wished she had no love for him, to spare her all grief. It was surely better this way.

Remaining on Arda was not an option. He did not belong – he didn't belong anywhere, but least of all here.

The journey was long, but the landscape easy and beautiful. The river was wide and slow-flowing, and the wizard even fished once or twice. He continued his jovial mannerism. One evening, while risking a short fire to cook his catch, the wizard decided to teach him a little Elvish, to fool the men of the lake.

After a short lesson, the wizard lapsed into silence.

'How did you come to fall?' he asked abruptly. Loki hesitated to answer.

'There was a great calamity,' Loki said. 'The bridge we use between worlds broke, and I fell from it.'

'I see. And will no one look for you?'

'No.' Loki glanced up at the stars. 'They think me dead.'

'I am sorry for that.'

'Why?'

'Being alive when people think you are dead is very troublesome. But, it has a tendency to reveal true friends and allies.' Loki gave a soft snort at that idea. The wizard lapsed into silence, and they ate their fish.

For several days, they could see Erebor rising above the horizon. It was called the Lonely Mountain, and Loki could easily see why. It was taller by far than the hills surrounding, and it even dwarfed the nearest mountains to the east, the Iron Hills. According to Alatar, they would pass beneath the mountain and enter the forest of Mirkwood, taking the great east road as far west as was needed. They would have to sell their horses to the people by the shores of the lake, as the forest was no place for them.

The people of the lake had heard rumours of their coming from the boat-men that traded in goods and wine from Dorwinion. They were friendlier than the Men of Rhûn, but offered little actual hospitality. To Loki they appeared marginally more advanced. The town out on the lake looked a bit hodge-podge, but it had to be somewhat well-engineered to stand for what looked like a long time. So far, Loki had seen very little to suggest he would want to stay on this world. There was a lot more magic here, he admitted, and the people seemed aware of it, even if they made little use of it, but it was hardly enough to tempt him.

The people eyed Loki as a mythical creature. Alatar bought a green cloak for him to wear over his armour, to appear less threatening. It helped very little.

After resupplying, they crossed the river and entered the forest of Mirkwood on the old forest road. Alatar told him to keep a watchful eye, as the forest had grown darker and they would encounter horrid creatures within. The elves Alatar hoped to avoid, and he cloaked them in a heavy enchantment to let them pass unseen.

The forest was unlike any Loki had entered. The dark magicks made the air thick and intoxicating, though Loki knew how to shield against its power. It grew with every step, and according to Alatar, this was the brighter side of the forest.

They travelled for an hour before Alatar suddenly stopped short, holding up a hand for Loki to remain quiet. Loki searched the dense forest, but could not see anything. He tried to listen, but there was only a little bird-song and other animals. Nothing of note.

He heard the crunch of footsteps just as a dozen tall elves stepped into view, surrounding them with ready arrows. Loki had to be impressed. No one had sneaked up on him since he was a child.

The leader stepped onto the path in front of Alatar. He was as tall as Loki, with long blond hair and shining blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. He wore leather armour, with a metal shoulder guard. At his hip was a beautiful sword, and on his back a bow like the others. He eyed the wizard up and down, then looked over his shoulder at Loki. He frowned deeply. Loki disliked him immediately. He was prettier than any elf on Alfheim, he'd give him that.

'What business brings you on the forest road?' the young elf asked.

'We are traveling to Isengard to seek the head of my Order, Saruman the White, and we would rather stay on the road than brave the shorter way.'

'I have heard of three wizards of the Order of the Istari, but the last two have never travelled this far west. What is your name? And who is your companion?'

'I am Alatar the Blue,' the wizard gave a low bow. 'This is my assistant, Loki, from your eastern kin.' Loki pursed his lips at the "assistant" remark, but kept quiet. The elf eyed him dubiously.

'No foreign travelers may walk the forest road without the king's consent. You will hand over your weapons and follow me to the Elvenking's Halls.'

'I only have my walking stick,' the wizard said, leaning heavily on it. 'I use no weapons. I am not a great member of our Order, unfortunately. I have no skill in fighting. We are both peaceful travelers.'

'I will have your stick regardless,' the elf said, taking it with little resistance. Another elf stepped up to Loki and he handed over the one small blade he still had on him when he fell. The elf frowned at the blade, checked him over quickly, then gave the blade to their leader.

Loki was more than a little uneasy, but kept his face a mask. He noted that all the elves wore their hair long, and all save one had blond hair.

They walked hidden paths through the forest. Even Loki was having trouble following it. He had a feeling they would discover he was not an elf fairly easily. The question then was what they would conclude about his presence.

The sight of the gates of the Elvenking's Halls silenced all thoughts. As they entered, Loki was for the first time appreciative of the world he had fallen to. The architecture was exquisite, and the way they weaved together rock and wood was unlike anything he had seen before. They followed a path along winding bridges and ledges. He could not see where the work of the elves ended and the natural wonders of the cave began. His head turned this way and that to take it all in, and he didn't even see the way all the elves looked at him.

When they arrived at the throne, Loki finally felt the hostile environment he was in. The elf – the king – lifted his head and Loki swallowed. This was definitely a king, and far more impressive than the king of Alfheim. Odin was the more powerful, easily, but Loki had never seen any creature inhabit a position of power so gracefully. Loki did not know what to make of his reaction – he failed to realise he was intimidated.

The leader elf stepped forward.

'This man claims to be Alatar the Blue, a member of the Istari, and his assistant, an elf from the east, called Loki.'

'The Blue Wizards have never been seen west of lake Rhûn in my life-time,' the king said, his voice slow and melodious. 'As for his assistant,' the king smiled slightly, 'he is no elf.'

'King Thranduil,' the wizard spoke. 'I am but a humble servant to my Order, I am bringing this person to Saruman. He is in need of our help. We mean no harm to your kingdom.'

'Of that I have little doubt,' the king said. 'But I am surprised you would leave the east without your brother. What of the people there you shepherd? Gandalf the Grey has spoken of your work there. Have you abandoned the people of Rhûn?'

'No, my brother continues the work,' the wizard replied. Loki could sense he was uneasy.

'The reports from the river men would suggest you are losing influence. Our wine stores are at an all-time low. The people grow suspicious and follow the dark.'

'There is a growing shadow,' the wizard admitted.

'We feel its presence even here,' the king said. 'It creeps up from the south.' He looked to Loki, and the Asgardian felt paralysed by his stare. Slowly, the king uncurled from his throne and stepped down. The wizard was pulled back by the guards, leaving Loki alone in front of the king. He was slightly taller than Loki, and of the same build. His eyes shone by some unfamiliar magic.

'You weave a thick illusion about you,' he said, looking Loki over from head to foot. He reached out, and Loki forced himself to stand still. The king moved so slowly, but it was calculated, as if he would move too fast for you to see if he let himself move thoughtlessly. He touched the tips of Loki's ears and to Loki's astonishment the illusion crumbled, revealing his true ears. The king leaned back as if to admire what he had done. 'Better,' he murmured. 'Tell me who you are, and not what the wizard has told you to say.'

'I am Loki of Asgard,' he said, hoping his voice did not sound as light as it felt. 'I come from a different world. I fell here by accident. I seek only to return home. The wizard said his Order might have enough power to help.'

The king stared at him for a long time, and Loki met his gaze as best he could.

'You are a man?'

'No- I am Asgardian. Our lives are far longer than men. On some worlds we are as gods.'

'I feel your power,' the king said. 'It is impressive. Your illusion is almost a part of you.'

'I wear no illusion.'

The king tilted his head in contemplation. 'I see.' He turned towards the wizard, leaving Loki feeling ill at ease.

'I would keep you here as my guests until such time as the forests are safer to travel. My warriors are clearing the path as we speak. A few days delay, no more.'

'We will brave the path now,' the wizard said.

'No,' the king replied, ascending his throne. Loki glanced at the wizard. 'And I will send a few of my warriors with you on your way, to make sure you arrive unharmed.'

'King Thranduil is most generous, but such protection is unnecessary.'

'I insist.'

The wizard looked about to pop. Suddenly, he raised his hand and his staff flew from the hands of the guard. He raised it high, the blue stone shining bright enough to blind them, striking the floor with it. A blast of energy shot out, and when everything had settled, the wizard was gone.

'As I suspected,' the king sighed. 'It appears he was more interested in your power than your journey. Does this surprise you?'

'Hardly, but I had little else to do but follow him.'

'He was correct about the Order,' the king said. 'If you wish to go home, the Istari are your only hope. Reluctant though I am to admit it, Gandalf the Grey would truly help you. I would urge you to Imladris, to seek out Lord Elrond. He will know where the wizard is.'

'This Lord Elrond is an elf?'

'Of the Noldor,' the king looked sour. 'There is little love between our kin.'

'And you will let me pass through your kingdom?'

'You will stay the night and dine with me,' the king said. 'Tomorrow Prince Legolas will lead you to the western gate. From there you must make your own way over the Misty Mountains.' The leader – the Prince – made a face at the order, but kept silent.

Loki bowed low. 'You are most generous, King Thranduil.'

'Tauriel will show you rooms where you may bathe and dress.' The red-haired elf stepped forward, eyes wide and staring. Loki bowed once more to both king and prince, and followed her. The guards did as well.

As they walked the magnificent hallways of the Elven King, Tauriel kept glancing behind her, giving Loki curious stares. He was led to an apartment worthy of Asgard, except in place of gold, there was silver, marble and carved wood. It seemed like every piece flowed into another, room and furniture as if carved from the same rock. Tauriel watched him as he circled the room. Servants entered bringing clothes and a plate of fruit.

'Are you truly from another world?' Tauriel asked. Loki looked at her, and saw that she was not afraid.

'Yes, it is... far away.'

'What is it like?'

'Not like this,' Loki said. 'We have elves, but they are not quite like you.'

'What are you?'

'I... I am Asgardian.'

'Such a strange word,' she said, smiling. She bowed. 'I will come collect you for the evening meal.' With that she left him. He explored the rest of the apartment, finding the bath already filling with warm water.

He bathed and contemplated his position. These elves saw much more than they let on. The thought chilled him. Unbeknownst to him, his mind was on the edge of a precipice, and by the smallest push, it would break.

After his body had recovered some from the long journey, he got up and put on the robes they had left for him, glad to be out of his armour.

The robes were of a shimmering fabric, with a tint of lavender in colour. There were details on the cuffs and collar, beautiful knot work. The robes were buttoned tight all down the front with glass buttons.

He was just finished putting it on when Tauriel knocked and led him down to the King's dining hall. Thranduil and Legolas were in deep conversation in the corner of the great hall, but stopped abruptly when Loki entered. Legolas had changed out of his armour and was wearing a knee-length tunic of a shimmering green colour, with matching breeches and high boots. Thranduil looked Loki up and down, and Loki felt a blush rise to his cheeks.

'Your stature suits our clothing well, Loki of Asgard.'

'Thank you, King Thranduil.'

'Come, we shall sit.'

The table was laid out for three, and Loki was seated to Thranduil's right side. The food was foreign, but Loki's keen magic and sense of smell would alert him to most substances poisonous to him. Besides, they could have killed him off a dozen times by this point.

Thranduil ate in the same way he seemed to do anything, sensually and slowly. Legolas spent the entire meal staring distrustfully at Loki, and he in turn avoided the Prince's gaze.

'Tell me of your world,' the king commanded.

'Asgard is the leader of a union of planets, which we call the Nine Realms. On Alfheim there are elves who look much like you.'

'Strange to think of our kind beyond the stars. What other races are there?'

'Many strange races, probably beyond count. The dark elves of Svartalfheim are... quite different.'

Thranduil asked many more questions about Alfheim, and Loki kept him entertained for the evening. Loki was escorted back to his rooms after.

There were no windows in the caves, but several walls were painted with the most pretty murals. He guessed they depicted myths or important moments in their history. He was studying one of them while unbuttoning his robes when the door opened the King Thranduil entered silently. Loki froze.

'Is there something else you wished of me, Your Majesty?'

'You fascinate almost beyond reason,' the king said, head tilted as if considering how to eat his cake. Loki swallowed and almost did up his buttons, but instead forced himself to let his hands fall to his sides. 'A man fallen from the sky. Your star shone in the heavens for almost a week. Many of my people thought you portended doom upon us.'

'I swear I do not mean anything.'

'I believe you, though your disguise tells me you favour lies over truth.'

'I told you I wear no disguise.'

'I do not claim to be a great teller of truth myself,' the King said, walking closer, 'but your foreignness betrays you easier than if you were one of us. The key to a good lie, after all, is to let the audience fill in the blanks themselves. But I do not know what to expect of you, and so I see only the cracks.'

Loki's heart was in his throat as the King stood before him. His eyes pierced him, drawing him out. Loki's fragile mind was about to crack.

'Show me your true self,' the King said.

'I- I wear no disguise.'

Suddenly, the King began muttering words in a language Loki's magic could not translate. The power in the words swirled around the room, closing in on Loki like spiders crawling all over his skin. He gasped and looked down at his hands, horrified to see them turning blue. It spread up his arms, and he could feel it on his face. He looked up at the King, knowing his eyes were now red. The King stared back with the same curious expression.

'What are you?' he asked.

'Jotun,' Loki snapped, almost shouting. 'A creature of Jotunheim'

'Why do you hide the most interesting part of you?'

'It is not a source of fascination to me!' Loki growled. 'Now release me.'

'There are species of Orcs that are almost as blue as you,' the King said. 'But you are far too beautiful for an Orc.' He narrowed his eyes. 'Why did you fall?'

'I will not be your toy,' Loki said. 'Release this magic.'

'Tell me the truth and I will.'

Loki made a noise of frustration. The King was completely unmoved by Loki's anger. He was utterly confident Loki could do nothing to hurt him while in his kingdom. Oh, if they had but met on a battlefield.

'I fell because I had to,' he said suddenly. In his mind he felt Thor's fingers slip out of his own, knowing with that relaxing of muscle he had condemned himself to death. For what? He honestly did not know – a million reasons clouded his mind. Shame. Despair. Revenge. They had all seemed enough in the moment. 'I had no place on Asgard,' he whispered. 'I am a monster.'

'These Jotuns are evil?'

'They are the enemies of Asgard,' which was the same, to Loki.

The King reached out to touch, and Loki flinched back. 'Do not touch me. Your skin will burn.'

'You are warm?'

'Cold. Jotuns are known as frost-giants. Your skin would blacken and die.' He gazed at the King's flawless skin, growing sick at the thought of marring it by touch alone. But that was what monsters did.

'You fell with purpose,' the King said. 'I see the despair in your eyes.'

'You know nothing of me. If you did you would be afraid.'

'I have burned before,' the King said. 'I prefer the cold night to the heat of the day.' His hand shot out suddenly, so quick Loki almost didn't see it, and grabbed his bare wrist. Loki struggled, but in his shock the King's grip was firm. But after several seconds Loki stilled as he realised the King was not burning. 'It seems my elven skin is hardier than you think.'

'Let me go.'

The King stepped up close, face inches from Loki's. His eyes captured Loki completely.

'Your fall has not ended,' he said softly. 'I see a long and dangerous path ahead for you.'

'I do not believe in the gift of foresight.'

'I need not see forwards to see you now, and the inevitable road you will take.'

'And what is my destination?' Loki mocked.

'That is unclear. But you will either think yourself strong, and be burnt, or rise from your fall with wounds you will carry forever.'

'I despise those who speak in vague promises.'

'I speak from experience.' The King closed his eyes in pain, turning his left cheek towards Loki as he let an illusion slip across his face – or was it an illusion? Loki did not understand this magic. Thranduil's cheek was almost gone, a horrid wound appearing and disappearing in the blink on an eye. Loki had a vision in his mind of great beasts of the air, spewing fire and taking down a hundred men with one lung-full.

When the moment was over, Loki was no longer certain he would want to meet the King on the battlefield. He realised the King was still holding his wrist and glanced down at it. When he looked back up, the King was even closer.

'Are your people well versed in the arts of pleasure?'

'I- I suppose there are those who claim mastery of it.' Loki in truth had not lain with man or woman in a thousand years.

'How old are you?' the King asked, as if reading his mind.

'About two millenniums, we don't tend to count.'

'Hmmmm, about my son's age.' That gave Loki pause. Odin was over five thousand years and he was beginning to look old. The elves of Alfheim grew much the same. 'I will have you regardless.'

'I-' Loki's answer was stopped with a kiss. Not too hard, but it broke no argument. The King's lips were warm compared to Loki.

His heart was going a million miles a minute, and the thought of making love as a frost-giant was making his stomach churn. But the elf magic would not release him, and the King would not accept a refusal.

And Loki did not want to protest.

The King was undoing his buttons, he realised. The kiss deepened, and Loki opened his mouth. The King hummed, the sound hypnotic, and Loki gasped as his warm hands glided up his torso and pushed the robes off his shoulders. His undergarments were undone next.

The King stepped back and admired his naked body. Loki did not wish to look down at it.

'What are these markings?'

'I- I do not know.'

The King leaned forward and kissed one of the lines by his collarbone. Loki shivered.

'Your Majesty-'

'Please, no formalities in bed. Thranduil sounds so nice on your foreign lips.'

'Thranduil,' Loki said. But the elf did not listen, and instead turned towards the bedroom, disappearing inside. Loki glanced down at himself, shivering again at the sight. Blue all over. He followed, and found Thranduil shedding his own robes. His skin was absolutely flawless, paler even than Loki used to be, and his white hair matched. He gently took off his crown and placed it on the bedside table. His bare back was... enticing, Loki could not deny it.

Thranduil turned and reached out. Loki tried not to flinch. He was guided onto the bed, on his back. Thranduil straddled him, his hair falling over his shoulders, tickling Loki's chest.

'You are unlike any creature I have seen,' he said. 'After millenniums of solitude, you have awakened something within me I thought dead. I did not think I would lay with another until I joined my lady in the Halls of Mandos. I will explore you as I once did these woods.'

His long fingers explored Loki's chest and arms, tracing the markings. He leaned down. 'Are you sensitive here, I wonder?' He sucked on Loki's left nipple, and it was definitely as sensitive as it had been in his Asgardian skin.

He tried to keep his mind focused, to remember what he was in that moment, remember why he fell, but Thranduil's beauty and utter focus on the giving of pleasure overwhelmed his broken mind. He fell into a haze.

Thranduil always seemed to know when he needed a kiss to shut him up before he spoke a protest. Thranduil's skin was like warm silk.

'You may touch me as well,' he whispered, and Loki's hands went almost straight to the man's backside, earning him a chuckle.

Thranduil gripped Loki's member, stimulating it while doing something with his tongue and Loki's ear. It made his world spin.

'How- What is this magic?'

'Pleasure is no place for magic,' Thranduil whispered. He got on top again, making sure their hips aligned and Loki keened as Thranduil helped him lift his knees so they fitted better together. His skin was too warm. He was desperate for release. Thranduil kept him on a leash, seemingly unaffected, until Loki with a frustrated growl rolled them over. 'Is this the frost-giant I see?' Thranduil asked, framing Loki's face with his hands and gazing into his eyes. 'Yes, good. Unleash it all.'

'You do not know what you ask.'

'Neither do you.'

Loki growled, ending on a muffled moan as he was pressed closer by Thranduil wrapping his legs around his waist. They rocked together. Loki started kissing Thranduil everywhere he could reach. He found a particular good spot on his neck, and sucked. This finally produced a gasp and moan.

'Inside,' Thranduil gasped. 'Now, at once.'

Loki did as he was told, and entered Thranduil, finding it as smooth as the rest of him. Thranduil threw his head back, teasing Loki with that neck of his. Loki stared at it transfixed as he started thrusting into him. Thranduil closed his eyes and Loki enjoyed seeing his whole body rock as he increased the force of his thrusts.

'Unleash it all!' Thranduil commanded. Loki braced himself, one hand on the bed, the other on Thranduil's hip. He thrust as hard as he could, but Thranduil only moaned and made no protest. Loki finally reached the precipice he was grasping for, just after Thranduil's release. They collapsed in a heap, Loki rolling off, all his senses blurring.

He must have fallen asleep. Thranduil was gone when next he became aware. He was returned to his normal colour, but a tiny sliver of him was disappointed.


	2. Chapter 2

The King was gone in the morning, which was hardly a surprise. Loki did not want to think about what had happened the night before. He pushed it determinately from his mind.

Loki got up and put on his armour, noting that it had been cleaned to perfection, just in time for Tauriel to come and collect him. He was led to the throne room, where Thranduil and Legolas were waiting for him. The former looked down on him from his throne, a tiny satisfied smile on his lips. Legolas had the same brooding look, and he was dressed for the journey ahead.

'Your Majesty,' Loki greeted with a bow.

'Loki of Asgard, I wish you luck on your journey,' Thranduil said. He gestured to one of the guards. 'And I have a gift for you.' The guard stepped forward and held forth a beautiful sword. Loki reached out and pulled it from its scabbard, marveling at the perfectly balanced weapon. It was wide enough to inflict heavy damage, curving slightly and ending in a wicked tip. There was writing carved into the back edge, the script as graceful as the race that wrote it. The hilt had no cross-guard, and was encased in leather with a spiral pattern. Loki examined it, but did not swing it. It was a long and exact weapon.

'This is a magnificent gift, Your Majesty,' Loki said.

'Let it not be said that King Thranduil sends innocent guests into his forest unprotected. It is a legendary sword. Its name is Aeglos, which in Sindarin means Snow Point.'

Loki stopped examining the weapon to glance at Thranduil, who was, if anything, smirking. Loki fought his blush, swallowing down his anger at the secret jest. But it did not appear to have been made with hurtful intentions. Thranduil seemed incapable of understanding why Loki's Jotun form was a defilement to all that was good in the world.

'Thank you, My King,' Loki bowed. He re-sheathed the sword and fastened it to his hip with a knot-work belt.

'Prince Legolas will lead you to the western gate,' the King said. 'There he will show you the way west to Imladris. Give my greetings to Lord Elrond, and then seek out Gandalf the Grey.'

'I will, King Thranduil. Thank you for your hospitality.'

'Thank you for your... unique company.' Loki felt a slight blush steal onto his face, and that fact shocked him more than the King's implication. He did not see it, so caught up in his own unexpected reaction, but Legolas grew suddenly stiff, glancing between Loki and the King. He quickly refocused his gaze on the floor, but his shoulders remained squared.

'Your Majesty,' Loki said, bowing in thanks.

'May the Valar bless your journey,' Thranduil said, waving his hand.

There was a flurry of movement as the small company set out. Loki was given a pack of provisions and walked in the middle of the group, Prince Legolas leading the way.

As they passed out of the gates of the Elvenking's hall, Loki felt a strange sense of loss at the sight of the dark forest. No creature in the Nine Realms could ever drag the truth from him, but for a brief moment Loki wondered if he should stay under Thranduil's roof forever. The thought was gone before the party crossed the bridge.

They followed the elf path through the forest. It grew darker and denser with every step, and all the elves were on high alert. For days they travelled thus, lighting big fires at night to keep away creatures. The elves spoke only in their own tongue, ignoring Loki completely. All save Tauriel, who would creep away occasionally to give him his share of the food and ask him questions about Asgard. Loki humoured her only because of her undisguised curiosity.

On one such night, Loki had to ask.

'May I asked why you are the only elf among your kind with red hair?'

'Oh, yes, of course. It's because I am a wood elf,' she said with a smile, but Loki could see there was sadness from sometime long ago hiding under it.

'I shall not pry,' he said. It would not be wise to chase away his one conversation partner.

'It's fine,' Tauriel said. 'King Thranduil has been very kind to me.' She glanced over at the rest of the group, sitting close to the fire. 'But I know what it means to find yourself far from what is familiar.'

Loki ignored the comment, and swiftly changed the subject to the creatures that they might encounter. Unfortunately, there was little reason for him to hear tales of giant spiders. They were left alone all through the forest. When they finally reached the western gate, Loki felt as though he had not seen the sun for a month. Ahead of them lay open fields and healthy trees, rising from rolling hills into towering, snow-capped mountains, far higher than Erebor. It made a breathtaking picture.

'Those are the Misty Mountains,' Legolas told him, speaking in the common tongue for the first time. Loki took them in with a sense of foreboding. They were as tall as the highest mountains on Asgard, and they stretched as far as the eye could see from north to south. Getting over them would be a challenge to say the least. 'Follow the path and it will lead you to Imladris. Avoid caves.'

'What is inside the caves?'

'Goblins, and lots of them. Horrid creates, easily killed, but not when it's you against the horde.'

'I shall sleep under the stars,' Loki concluded.

'Good luck,' Legolas said reluctantly and turned back. The other elven warriors followed immediately, but Tauriel lingered.

'Stay safe,' she said. 'I hope you reach your home soon.'

'Thank you,' Loki said, ignoring the sour taste in his mouth at the sentiment. She nodded, smiled briefly, and hurried after her people. Loki watched them disappear into the darkness before turning to the task at hand. He took a deep breath, and began walking.

XXX

'It is empty,' Thor said, sighing at the sight. He turned and reached out, helping Frigga up the unstable gravel edge of the crater. They stared down into the empty hole.

'But he was here, and he was alive,' Frigga said with hope, pointing to a set of tracks leading out of the crater.

'Him and someone else,' Thor said, crouching to examine them closely. 'Someone who walked with a cane. But their steps seem sure. I do not believe he was bound.'

'They went north-east,' Frigga said, gazing over the rolling hills and forests. With her keen eyes and high vantage point, she thought she saw a flash of sunlight across water. 'He is alive,' she whispered to the wind. 'Come,' she said to Thor. 'We must catch up with him.'

They could follow the tracks easily enough down the gravely part of the mountain, but once they reached the grass the tracks disappeared. Thor spied a trail and decided it was the logical way to go, judging by the track's direction.

They had arrived on the strange planet thanks to Frigga's demands and Odin's magic. He had managed to send his magic along the same path of the Bifrost's energy, but after that they were on their own. Odin had not been keen to send them on their way, but once Frigga had made up her mind, she would not be deterred. Thor had volunteered to help and protect her.

They followed the road, and saw a few farms and people here and there. When asked, they all pointed dismissively north-east and said not a word. It was not until they reached Lake Rhûn they found someone who would speak to them.

The small town by the lake's shores was primitive, but well-organised. Frigga and Thor both wore heavy cloaks to disguise their armour and weapons – Thor's hammer and Frigga's sword. Along the docks were a row of merchants, and if anyone had seen someone strange pass through town, it was them.

'You mean the Blue Wizard,' one said, when asked about the pair they were seeking. 'Ay, he passed through here with an elf. We don't get many of them round here. He had an odd look about him. They wanted to rent a boat, but none of the captains wanted them aboard.'

'Do you know where they were heading?' Thor asked.

'North to Lake Town, I think. Torgrim sold 'em some horses. Wizard's gold is as good as any, I suppose. We don't like them here, trying to tell us what to do.'

'Thank you, friend,' Thor said. They were about to leave, when the man spoke again.

'I reckon you two might find a boat for hire, seeing as you seem like normal folk. You should check with Borga,' he said, nodding towards the docks. Thor thanked him again, and did just that. They had brought gold chips, and one alone was enough to get them to Lake Town once the captain had bit into it. Hopefully, the river would help them catch up with Loki.

The country-side was beautiful, and both Frigga and Thor spent some time discussing the world and the people they had seen so far. Anything to keep their minds off Loki for a few seconds. Frigga felt the magic covering the land, and although it was foreign, it was a comfort, as it seemed to her like a trail she was following, leading her to Loki.

Lake Town was interesting, and they were mistaken for well-off people of Rhûn. The merchants there told that the wizard and Loki had gone west. Again, Loki was mistaken for an elf, and Frigga had to wonder if it was a deliberate disguise.

They were warned about going into the forest. It was King Thranduil's realm, but if Loki had gone that way, they would brave the wrath of a hundred kings.

It was not kings Frigga feared once they entered Mirkwood, however, but whatever darkness lay there. The trees seemed to have taken up a sickness from the earth. It unnerved Thor even more than her, for he could not hammer a shadow.

'Stay alert,' Frigga said. 'There is something watching us.'

'What is it?'

'I do not know.'

They followed the path for several hours, always feeling a pricking sensation at their necks. Frigga stopped abruptly and Thor felt Mjølnir vibrate. There was magic in the air.

All at once, five elves jumped from the trees, three rose from their hiding places and two stepped onto the path both in front and behind them. All of them had arrows at the ready. All had been deadly silent. Thor immediately raised his hammer, but Frigga raised her own hand in warning. The scene froze.

'We are no threat to you,' Frigga said. 'Please, we are looking for a blue wizard and a young man who passed this way some time ago.'

Another elf, this one clearly the leader, stepped forward.

'Hand over your weapons,' he ordered.

'I will gladly hand you my sword,' Frigga said. 'But I am afraid you will not be able to take his hammer.'

'Why not?'

Thor snorted and let Mjølnir drop to the ground, indicating to the nearest elf to pick it up. The elf hesitated, but approached cautiously, gripping the handle and pulling, only to stumble when the hammer failed to budge. The elves spoke quietly to one another in a fluttery language Frigga's magic could not translate.

'What magic is this?' the leader asked.

'My Prince,' a red-haired elf spoke. 'They are looking for Loki.'

'You have seen him?' Frigga asked, hope blossoming.

The Prince spoke a string of elvish words to the red-head. Frigga drew herself up.

'I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard,' she said, drawing their attention. 'And I demand you tell me what you know of my son.' The elves all stared at her, eventually the leader spoke.

'I can not bring you before the King so armed.'

'Then tell me what I need to know and let me pass.'

The red-head and leader spoke more elvish. The leader sighed, seeming agitated.

'I will take you to the King,' he decided.

They were led through the forest. Frigga noted the red-head, and gave her a smile of thanks when the opportunity presented itself. Thor had fastened Mjølnir to his belt, though he was clearly uncomfortable with so many warriors around him and no fighting.

They came out of the forest to the bridge, and the gates of the Elvenking's halls. Frigga admired the workmanship, but was too eager to see Loki to think much of it. The leader elf turned to them.

'Welcome to the halls of King Thranduil,' he said, a tad reluctantly.

They were led to the throne, from where King Thranduil watched them with curiosity. As the elf leader presented them, Frigga curtsied, bowing her head in greeting.

'This woman says she is Frigga, Queen of Asgard, mother of Loki.'

'I bid you welcome, Queen Frigga,' king Thranduil said. 'I did suspect there was something royal about Loki, though he failed to give me his title.'

'Thank you, your Majesty. I and my other son, Prince Thor,' she indicated him and he bowed in greeting, which was returned with a nod from the king, 'have travelled far in search of him. Is he still nearby?'

'I am afraid he travelled west a few days ago. I directed him to seek out the wizard Gandalf the Grey in the hopes of returning home.'

'And the Blue Wizard people said he travelled with?'

'The Blue Wizard was not genuine in his desire to help Prince Loki. He escaped when I confronted him about it.'

'So, Loki is alone?'

'My son, Prince Legolas, guided him to the western gate of my kingdom. From there he travelled over the Misty Mountains to the home of Lord Elrond, alone.'

'Then I beg your leave to follow him.'

'Allow my warriors to resupply, and they will guide you to the western gate. In the mean time, you might dine with me to refresh yourself for the long journey.'

Frigga knew better than to contradict a king, and considering the strange magic in the forest, it might be best to have guides. She disliked this king, but only as much as she generally disliked all those who stood between her and what she wanted. They were led to the King's dining hall, where it was admittedly good to be refreshed. Thor was a bit disappointed at the lack of meat, but he kept quiet.

'Prince Loki is your second born?' the King asked during the meal.

'Yes, Your Majesty.'

'It is admirable of you to come all this way to find him.'

'A mother's love,' Frigga said with a sad smile.

'Indeed.'

They lapsed into a short silence.

'Forgive me, King Thranduil, but why do you stare at me so?'

'Do I stare?' King Thranduil took a sip of his wine. 'I suppose I was just noting the familiar resemblance between you and Prince Thor. Loki was of such complexion, you see, that he was mistaken for our eastern kin.'

'Hmm, is that so?' Frigga.

'He has great strength, to survive such a fall.'

'Yes, when the bridge failed, most were certain he had fallen to his death.'

'I can only imagine.' Thranduil observed Thor in that moment, and although the Prince stared at his food, the elven king guessed his guilt. Why Queen Frigga herself could not see the absence of truth, Thranduil put to a mother's denial. A blind spot for anyone with such high regard for another.

'He told me much of Alfheim and the elves there,' Thranduil said.

'You seem to have spent a great deal of time with him,' Frigga noted.

'Yes, I suppose it was a good deal of time,' Thranduil said, smiling slightly, sipping his wine. There was a moment of silence as they all ate. Frigga frowned into her meal.

'He seemed in good spirits?' Thor asked, trying to appear merely concerned, but Thranduil saw the desperation in his soul.

'He was determined to return home.'

'I can not thank you enough for helping him,' Frigga said.

'I was happy to do it. It has been an age since we had such a fascinating guest in Mirkwood.'

'I am glad he...' Frigga searched for the word, 'accepted your hospitality.'

'I offered my friendship, and he more than graciously accepted.'

Frigga returned Thranduil's easy smile with a sharp one. They finished the rest of the meal in silence.

XXX

Loki found that walking alone cleared his mind of everything except finding where next to place his foot. The endless trudging was meditative. It was only when night fell and he was forced to find somewhere to rest that the darkness of his mind overshadowed all else. The gnawing thoughts sprang upon him quicker every night.

Always, he saw the look of hate on Odin's face, and heard his fatal "No", and felt his fingers slip from the Allfather's sceptre. A part of him wanted nothing more than to grip it tighter and let himself be pulled up, but what would that have given him but a cell and the disappointed looks for centuries to come. He pictured Frigga staring from between bars, tears falling, sometimes screaming, sometimes even spitting at him, but these were nightmares beyond reason, or so he hoped.

As he climbed the mountains, the weather worsened. Wind and rain whipped him, but he kept away from the caves, as instructed. One evening, sitting against the rock wall, huddling in his wet cloak, Loki thought he heard a voice on the wind. 'No, do not listen,' he thought. He shut his eyes, telling his heart it was only his imagination. He need only conquer himself. He may have been discarded by his family, but he would not loose his mind.

He looked down at his hands, gripping the cloak tight to keep the wind from stealing it. The rock surrounding him was dark and slippery, but he had always handled the cold well – too well, he now understood. He turned one palm up, staring at the familiar lines, pale and shivering slightly. The cold was still a burden, but he knew Thor would have been complaining far more were he by his side. But a frost-giant would barely feel this cold... A flash of memory came, of that first transformation on Jotun. The cold had disappeared completely in that moment. He had been too shocked to note it at the time. He had not worn a cloak to protect him like the others, for he had known it would only make him too warm in battle. But when his skin had turned-

'Did you know not to dress me too warm?' he whispered, thinking of all those winters on Asgard. Frigga dressing them, and Thor always had the thicker cloak. He wanted to scream.

The slap of feet on the rock disturbed him. There were many footsteps. Loki got up and drew his sword, uncertain how to meet whatever was approaching.

They came up from the east; perhaps they had been following him. He squinted through the rain, discerning shapes moving along the narrow path above the perilous cliff. The column of shapes stopped abruptly, and Loki's keen ears heard them muttering in a strange guttural tongue. He could not guess how many they were, but fighting on the narrow path was not a good idea for either party. He could not see well enough, and he knew not how many he could toss over the side before he misstepped.

Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he hurried upwards. In the dark it was almost impossible to see, but he kept one hand on the mountain and moved as quickly as he could, feeling his way when the path grew too narrow to run.

He heard the clink of armour against rock as the party followed. They were quick, being familiar with the path even in the dark. Loki sped up, heart pumping. He needed to find somewhere to turn and stand his ground.

Legolas had said goblins were easily killed, but these were their mountains. One wrong step and Loki was tumbling down the side of it.

The rain filled his eyes, whipped by the wind.

The goblins were almost at him.

He rounded a corner and felt the path begin to descend. Perhaps he had reached the highest point of the path. He felt along the mountain ahead of him, only to find that the wall ended abruptly. He felt around the corner and realised it was an entrance to a cave.

'A lonely elf on the mountain,' a gargled voice said. Loki turned, gripping his sword tight. The goblin was a hideous creature, far more so than anything Loki had seen in the Nine Realms. Even Jotuns were not as disgusting. Some mindless beasts could perhaps match them in looks or smell, but because they possessed the gift of speech, they appeared the more horrifying.

'I am no elf,' Loki said, crouching slightly as he was forced to back into the cave as more and more goblins appeared along the path past the cave entrance. 'I am a powerful mage, and it would be best, for your lives' sake, to let me pass.'

'Our king dines all creatures of Middle Earth,' the goblin said, barking out a laugh to his company. Their laughter was a mix of hissing and gurgling. Loki grimaced. 'We offer our hospitality!' The biggest goblin stamped his foot hard, three times. Loki looked down on the cave floor, and his face grew pale as the sand on the floor started to seep away into suspicious cracks.

He raised his hand to cast a spell to blast as many goblins he could, and make a run for it, but before he could summon up his power, the floor fell away and he tumbled into darkness.

He landed where there was light, at least, in a round wooden enclosure of very poor make. It looked most like a sheep enclosure. He got up, feeling anger surge within him, only to have his whole being stop short at the sight of the goblin realm. It was massive, almost never-ending, with haphazard constructions on every piece of rock that would hold it. Bridges went in every direction, and on them scurried goblins of every size and shape, but all equally revolting. It was like one great vile and putrid ant hill. Loki had never seen anything the same shade of foulness.

A large horde suddenly appeared, charging across the bridge straight towards him with monstrous cries of rage and excitement. Loki raised his sword and dropped his supplies, standing ready. He brought his blade down so hard on the first hit, the nearest goblin's upper body was completely severed. They wore almost no armour, so Loki went to work on them.

He cut into them like butter, sending some over the fence, but most landing in heaps of innards in the small enclosure. He blasted some with magic, when they became overwhelming, but mostly he saved his strength. Soon he was fighting in a foot-deep layer of putrid blood and viscera. The smell alone was almost enough to petrify him.

He cut and cut and cut, but they were too numerous. The horde was stronger than its flimsy members.

In the end, it was fatigue and distraction that got him. One large goblin did something almost clever, and threw a rock at the back of Loki's head. It knocked him dizzy, blackening his vision, and when he regained his senses he was bound tight and being carried by a dozen agitated goblins, their noises shrill.

Over bridges and past more goblins than Loki could count in a life-time, he was eventually brought to a platform of sort, in front of the most disfigured throne he had ever seen. That was nothing compared to the loathsome creature that sat upon it. Loki had half a mind to empty his stomach.

He was tossed to the floor, and he rolled in front of the "king." He wore a crown of bone, his chin vibrating like a dangling slug at every movement. He eyed Loki with his biggest eye, huffing air in and out in excitement.

'An elf! But from what realm? Lord Elrond knows better than to send spies into my kingdom!' the king squealed.

'He said he is a mage, your Nefariousness Sir,' one little goblin said, bowing so low his protruding belly touched the floor. 'He does not have pointed ears.'

'A mage?' the king screeched, hiccuping on the word. He seemed not to know how to contain his excitement, wobbling this way and that, almost rocking out of his throne. 'An Istari trespassing on my doorstep?'

'I am no Istari,' Loki said, fed up with the dumb creatures. 'I am from a world beyond the heavens. I am Loki, of Asgard, and the cleverest thing you could do right now is release me.'

'Loki, Loki, loki,' the king tasted the name. 'Doesn't sound like an elven name, or a man's name.'

'We found this upon him, your Magnanimous Malicious Majesty, Sir,' the little goblin said, bringing forth Loki's sword and holding it up above his head to the king could see.

'That is Aeglos, the Icicle!' the king cried, backing away into his throne like a scared child. 'It has brought icy death to many of my kin! You bring this profane foe into my kingdom and pretend to not be in league with the elves!'

'It was a gift from King Thranduil. I am on a mission to Lord Elrond, and have no interest in your... kingdom,' Loki gritted out.

'A likely story!' The king said. 'He shall die! Bring forth the bone-crusher! We shall crush this elvish collaborator!' The goblin horde let out a cry of excitement and many hurried off to do as bidden.

Loki pulled at his bonds, but remained bound. He had a feeling he would not be enjoying the goblins' hospitality for long.

-:-

Extra Notes: Aeglos was not actually a sword in Tolkien's world, but a spear wielded by Gil-Galad. The other details are correct, except that Thranduil had it. Obviously, in the books Glorfindel was using it! But I just had to use that one because let's face it, no other sword could be Loki's :)


	3. Chapter 3

Loki gritted his teeth, waiting for the moment to strike. He hoarded his magic to himself, hoping he had enough strength to escape. These goblins were an annoyance beyond anything he had encountered before.

The King sang a horrid little tune, turning this way and that, and doing a very poor job of mimicking a dancing creature.

'Oh, King under the Misty Mountains,' Loki called to him, catching his attention. His eyebrows rose, showing he was capable of skepticism. 'I am humbled by your huge presence. King Thranduil led me to believe you were a simple, pathetic creature, but I see now that he was grossly mistaken.'

'I am the Goblin King! How dare that lowly elf insult my majesty!' the goblin screeched.

'He knows not of what he speaks,' Loki agreed. 'I wager your long rule under the Mountain far exceeds in greatness that of Thranduil, king of sticks and meadows.'

'Ha! King of Sticks!' The goblin bounced at the new insult. 'I have reigned for several years, the Greatest Years of my mighty kingdom!' Loki raised his eyebrows at that, but the king was too busy working the crowd into a frenzy to notice.

The Bone Crusher was making its way across the last of the rickety bridges, and the crowd was so excited Loki had trouble hearing anything that was said.

'We shall crush the spy!' the King spat. Loki decided he could wait no more.

He closed his eyes and unleashed a whip-sharp wave of magic in all directions, scattering all the goblins around him, some of them tumbling over the edge of the platform. The King was blasted back into his thrown. Loki emptied his magic completely, probably killing dozens of them by force alone.

Loki was on his feet, his sword in hand, before the wave had dissipated. He leapt forward at the King, plunging the sword into his flabby neck as far as it would go, until it struck the back of the throne. The King gasped, but the sword prevented him from drawing breath. Loki swiftly extracted the sword, a deluge of pus and blood spurting out and covering him. He turned his face away with a grimace, and jumped off the platform, latching on to a bucket of sorts that hung on a zip-line connected to the throne.

The weight of Loki sent the bucket on its path down the line. The tiny goblin inside the bucket screeched, but Loki shut him up by spearing him with the point of his sword and flinging him off into the abyss below. He sheathed the sword and held on with both hands as he picked up speed.

He thought he had escaped unscratched, but a lucky - or unlucky - arrow struck him under his right arm. He cried out, but held on tight.

He could hear the commotion of the goblins, all screaming at the death of their King. Sounds of fighting soon took over the wailing, however, and Loki knew their ranks had gone into disarray as battle for the throne commenced. That did not mean they would not follow him, however.

Down and down he travelled, past the last of the wooden structures, and into dark caverns. He feared he would not be able to see when the line ended, but his fears were unwarranted. There was a platform down below with two torches and a goblin waiting. He drew his sword when he spied Loki, but he was so far from a threat Loki did not bother with his own sword.

He let go and landed hard on the goblin, crushing his pathetic skull underfoot.

With the woosh of air gone, he could now hear only the faint sounds of fighting, echoing all the way from above. He must be almost at the bottom of the mountain, or perhaps even underground. Ahead was a passageway. It must lead to the outside, for this was the path the goblin would take when bringing a message from the king.

He cried out in annoyance as he twisted to get a grip on the arrow that had snuck between his armour. He bit his lip and pulled it loose. He felt only the sting of pain, but had no magic left to heal it then and there. He pressed his hand over the wound. It was not large, and whoever shot it had not been very strong. As long as he did not aggravate it, he would not bleed to death.

He took one of the torches with his free hand, extinguishing the other, and hurried down the path.

The passageway soon narrowed, needing only to be comfortable for a goblin. Loki had to duck, and occasionally go sideways due to his armour. He had no supplies, he realised, and his cloak had been ripped off sometime, he knew not when. Those were soon the least of his fears, for he came to a crossroad. Both paths went in mostly the same direction ahead, but how to know which would veer off or fall or rise? He picked one at random, and since it kept on in the same direction he decided chance would simply have to be on his side.

Another crossroads made him pause for far longer. This was in a T-shape, meaning he might be going further into the mountain if he picked the wrong one. He looked to his right, raising the torch to see as far as he could.

For a moment, he thought he saw a shadow at the end of the light's reach. It lasted only for half a second, but for that time a fist seemed to grip his heart, a chill causing all the hairs on his body to stand on edge. He stepped back in fear, almost dropping the torch completely.

The shadow, in the shape of a man, had been beckoning to him, or warning him the other way?

The moment was gone as quickly as it had stolen over him, and Loki shook his head at himself. What power did this mountain have over his mind? Dark passageways were not new to him, but he had been as scared as a child for a moment.

He turned and hurried in the other direction, pushing the shadow and his reaction from his mind.

He must have walked for twenty minutes, his back aching by the time he finally heard the sound of the wind howling. In his desperation to get out of the mountain, he rushed at the exit. He almost ran straight off the mountain. The ground below was dark, and fell away straight. It was still raining, and the clouds were so thick he was in doubt whether it was day or night. He could see a narrow path down the side of the mountain, and the tops of trees below. He just hoped he was on the right side.

He dared not linger, so he threw the torch below him and watch it fall and extinguish. It would not have lasted long in the rain in any case.

He followed the path, stumbling a few times due to the slippery rock. It wasn't long until he reached the forest below. In between the trees is was darker still, and he knew he would get lost beyond reason if he tried to follow the path, if there even was a path.

He found a large rock he could sit against that helped shield him from the wind slightly. He was starting to feel the cold. He was soaking wet and dirty, full of goblin pus, so he stank like them. He managed to use a little magic to close the wound so it stopped bleeding. His head pounded, and he was weak from the amount of magic he had expelled.

He had no clue how much time had passed, but with his hike the previous day and sleepless night, he knew it had to be at least a day since he had last eaten or drank anything.

Middle-Earth was not the simple, magical place he had first thought.

He did not sleep, but huddled away from the wind as best he could, and waited for a reprieve.

XXX

'Boe de nestad [He needs healing],' a voice whispered. He felt warm light on his face, flickering through the tree tops.

'Man te?'[What is it?] a different voice asked. Loki was too tired to move. He could hear they were speaking their own tongue, a strange tongue even his magic could not translate. The words did not sound exactly as the ones the wizard had taught him, however, so he could do nothing but listen to the song-like speech.

'Ú echil egor edhel.' [Neither man or elf]

Loki heard the crunch of leaves and pine needles and opened his eyes. He knew he was surrounded without looking. He guessed maybe half a dozen, all in light armour with bows at the ready and swords at their sides. The leader stood tall, gazing down at Loki with curiosity. He had a metal breastplate, but otherwise his armour was leather, as beautifully made as the armour he had seen in the Elvenking's Halls. These elves were dark brown of hair, and had a more regal - or perhaps arrogant - air about them.

'Pedig edhellen?' [Do you speak Elvish?] the leader asked. He had his sword drawn, but it was held at his side to appear non-threatening. Loki hoped these were the elves of Rivendell that Thranduil had spoken of. He thought he recognised some of the words the elf said, and shook his head in what he hoped was the correct answer.

'Who are you?' the elf asked in the common tongue.

'I am Loki, of Asgard,' he said. He kept still. 'I seek Lord Elrond.'

'Where is this Asgard? And what business have you with Lord Elrond?' the elf asked.

'It is beyond the stars. You might have noticed my fall across the sky some time ago,' Loki said, and by the elf's quick glance to the sky he guessed the elves here had seen the shooting star as well. 'King Thranduil sent me hither to ask Lord Elrond where I might find the wizard, Gandalf.'

'Mithrandir's whereabouts are most often known only after he has departed,' the elf said cryptically. Loki tried not to sneer. 'Lord Elrond is in his halls in Rivendell. If you will relinquish your sword, we will guide you there.'

Loki very slowly undid his sword-belt and threw the sword between him and the elf, who stepped forward to pick it up, examining it with widening eyes.

'King Thranduil must hold you in high esteem to grant you the sword of the Noldor.'

'I will forever be grateful for his friendship,' Loki said. 'Though I am afraid I have no knowledge of the great lords of Middle-Earth.'

'No matter, Gil-Galad perished long ago, and with him his kingdom.' The elf gestured for his company to lower their bows, and as they did so Loki rose, wincing both at his wound, and at having slept in such an uncomfortable position. The elf made a face at the state of his armour, the blood and pus now dried and caked. 'Please, follow me.'

The forest was wet from the rain, glistening in the new sun and far from sick like Mirkwood. The place felt like a balm after his labours, and Loki did not hesitate to turn his face into the light when they emerged. They travelled down into a valley, through hidden paths, sometimes even underground in caverns. Finally, they emerged on the southern slopes of a narrow valley, with a perfect view of Rivendell.

If the Elvenking's Halls in Mirkwood had been impressive, Rivendell was effortless. Like a gem in a hidden chest, its wooden structure made it seem almost fragile compared to the solid caves of Thranduil. But these halls were not fragile, Loki could see it must have stood for hundreds of years, maybe thousands. Again there was the same blending of nature and craftsmanship, with some columns being made of trees rooted to the spot, or statues made to look exactly like them.

'Welcome to Rivendell,' the elf said, pride in his voice. 'The last homely house west of the mountains.'

Loki looked west, following the fall of the river into the hilly landscape beyond the valleys that extended from the Misty Mountains. They were in shadow where they stood, but the sun was bathing several hilltops with light, and soon it would reach the homely house. Homely was hardly the word Loki would have used. He hoped the name was descriptive nonetheless.

They followed the paved pathway down and across the river. As they did so an elf wearing dark violet robes descended from the nearest house. He was not Elrond, that Loki could guess, for he seemed too young for a creature of such reputation. He wore a pretty diadem, though a heavy frown marred his features.

'Athaeben,' the elf greeted. 'Who have you brought with you?'

The elf bowed as he answered. 'One Loki of Asgard, come from the halls of King Thranduil to seek Lord Elrond.' He presented the sword for inspection. 'He carries this. He says he is the one who fell with the star.'

The elf took the sword and read the inscription. 'A gift worthy of a great warrior,' he murmured, and only then did Loki realise that both elves thought there was some rudeness in Thranduil's gift. He could not guess what it was, or who the insult was intended for.

'Greetings, Loki of Asgard,' the elf said, and Loki returned the bow that was given. 'I am Lindir, I welcome you to Rivendell.'

'Thank you,' Loki said.

'You look in need of healing, and new clothes,' Lindir said. 'Please except our hospitality before I bring you before Lord Elrond.'

'Again, I thank you and most gladly accept.'

He was led to a smaller house set apart from the others in a beautiful garden. Then again, all of Rivendell seemed to be a garden. Asgardians were not use to wood unless they were in hunting lodges or the homes of the common folk, but the material did not seem lowly here. If anything it seemed all the more intimidating, for Loki could see very little of defensive structures. The elves must be great warriors to defend their home with only strategic walls and the natural cliffs of the valley.

Lindir gave many instructions as they entered. Loki was brought into a room with painted walls depicting water scenes, the windows obscured by cascades of curtains in blue and grey. The walls were divided by wooden columns that rose straight up, then curved as though they were branches of a tree, coming together at the top of the ceiling in brilliantly carved arches. In the middle of the room stood a great wooden bath being filled with steaming water. Loki felt bone tired as several female elves surrounded him and began undressing him. He almost protested, but they seemed unashamed and so he could not feel any shame himself.

Lindir did not remain, but told him to enjoy the healing.

Once naked, the elves guided him like a child to the water. It was so hot it almost hurt, but he sank down eventually and sighed. One of the elves stepped into the water with him, wearing a silken-thin white cloth held up only by a beaded thread around her neck. She ignored his protest and began washing him. When she reached his wound she and the other elves began chanting, and Loki felt the magic in the air. Intoxicating, and peaceful, it almost lulled him to sleep.

His skin was unblemished when they finished. Eventually she left him to clean the rest himself, and they laid out clothes for him to wear after.

'Lord Elrond awaits you,' one of them told him. 'But please enjoy the bath as long as needed.' He thanked her, and finally he was blissfully alone.

He had to admit, there were no kingdoms or lordships in all the Nine Realms that would give so much hospitality so freely. Or, perhaps there were no places where so many clever beings recided, being patient enough to offer him healing and rest before hearing his purpose. In either case, he had to admire them. With his admiration came caution and slight fear. The magic they had was unknown, and he had yet no idea if they used it for defensive or offensive purposes. He had been swept up by Thranduil's presence and the novelty of it all, but he would have to be more wary now.

After he was thoroughly clean, he rose and put on the clothes laid out. A green tunic the colour of new leaves, brown breeches, and soft shoes. Outside he was met by a female elf in deep red robes, flowers in her hair and a smile on her lips. She bowed and beckoned for him to follow her. He knew there were guards following as well, but they were expertly silent.

The hall of Lord Elrond were much as the smaller house Loki had bathed in, only far more impressive.

He was led through the building to a wide veranda overlooking the waterfall. Off in a corner, on a raised platform with carved arches for shading, was stood a round table where an elf was seating. This was Lord Elrond, Loki knew at once. He was far older than any elf Loki had yet seen, even older than Thranduil, but it did not show on his face miraculously enough. Loki feared these elves might actually be immortal.

He looked to Loki and smiled as he approached. The elf who had brought him bowed and left without a word.

'Please, sit, Loki of Asgard,' Lord Elrond said, indicating the chair to his left. Loki did so cautiously.

'Lord Elrond,' Loki said stiffly. 'Thank you for your hospitality.'

'You are fully healed?'

'Yes, My Lord.'

'Good. Lindir says you have come to see me about Mithrandir?'

'I was told the wizard and his order might have the power to help send me home.'

'Home beyond the stars,' Lord Elrond said, gazing up for a moment. 'The stars are far away, perhaps too far even for the Istari's power. But King Thranduil was right to send you. If anyone might have such power, it is the Istari.'

'But you doubt they can?'

'The elves know of one other world above our own. It is called Valinor, and any elf may travel there by our own magic. Asgard is much further, I would guess, and unvisited by any on Middle-Earth.'

'I need not reach Asgard,' Loki said, gazing out over the valley. 'Only one of the Nine Realms in our union. The Bifrost - the means we use to travel between the worlds - broke and I fell here.'

'You believe if your world's magic can deposit you here, ours can lift you up again?'

'Something like that.'

'Then you shall meet with Mithrandir as soon as he returns.'

'And when might that be?'

'He said he was going to visit an old friend, but he should return within a few weeks, maybe a moon's time.' Loki's face fell at the news, but there was nothing for it. 'I hope you will remain my guest during that time,' Elrond continued. Loki knew he probably simply wanted to keep Loki where he could observe him. He thanked the Lord with sincerity. They were then served food, very similar to the type served in Mirkwood.

'You left King Thranduil in good health?' Elrond made conversation during the meal.

'Yes, he was very hospitable.'

'More than that, I think,' Elrond said. 'He gave you a kingly gift.'

'Yes, so Athaeben said. A sword from the King of the Noldor was it?' Loki seemed to recall Thranduil saying Lord Elrond's kin was of the Noldor.

'Indeed. Did King Thanduil not tell you its name?'

'He did, but he did not explain its significance.' He had only told the name as a private joke to Loki. If the sword held any more meaning, Thranduil had not bothered to share it.

'It once belonged to Gil-Galad, the last High King of the Noldor, and my kinsman.' A sadness passed into Elrond then, and Loki could finally guess at the meaning of Thranduil's insult, and perhaps why Legolas was so upset that he had given such a gift away.

'How did it come to King Thranduil?' Loki asked.

'Aeglos was thought to be lost after the siege of Barad-dûr, where Gil-Galad perished at the hand of Sauron the Deceiver, Lord of Barad-dûr. We won the battle, but lost our King.'

'How long ago was this?'

'It will soon be three thousand years. This is the first time I have laid eyes on the sword since I saw it wielded in battle. It was thought no one could stand against it, but many such sayings were proved wrong that day.'

'It must have been a great battle.' Loki, despite himself, leaned forward in fascination.

'It was, though I think we lost more than we won.' Elrond shook himself out of his reminiscence. 'I am sure you are a warrior worthy of her, Loki of Asgard, I do not mean to take your gift from you.'

'I am- I am not worthy. It belongs with the King's people. It belongs to you.' Loki did not know why he admitted such a weakness, but these creatures seemed to always look right through him.

'I can see you are more than you care to share,' Elrond said, making Loki shiver. Did he see through his pale skin like Thranduil? Loki could feel Elrond had great magic, but for all he knew it worked in an entirely different way than Thranduil's. 'But I know nothing of you beyond that. If King Thranduil saw something-'

'He gave it to me in jest, I am certain, and as an insult to you. He practically told me so himself.'

'I doubt that.' Elrond sighed. 'A good friend once translated the Lay of the Fall of Gil-Galad into the common tongue. It is a sad tale, and it pains me to be reminded of it, but I am glad the sword shall see battle again. May it serve you better than it did him, in the end.'

'Thank you, My Lord, I will treasure it.'

They ate in silence, but Loki's curiosity was eating him up from the inside. At every turn these elves showed themselves to be more interesting. He thought back to Thranduil, and wondered with no small amount of sadness what he might have learnt had he but stayed a while longer. What he did not recognise within himself, was that he was using his newfound objects of study to distract from his own inner turmoil over the events that had brought him to Arda.

After the meal, he was told he could walk freely in Rivendell, and he was given rooms in the main hall's upper levels. He could not sleep, and explored the place with reverence. The elves gave him stares, but none accusing, merely observant.

He came to a house that held only paintings of great events and statues commemorating great elves. He was disappointed he could not read their names. The day had come and gone so quickly, he felt as though he had fallen to yet another world. Twilight covered everything in a red glow, and he could see fires being lit, and songs sung. He heard one being sung in the common tongue he could understand, and realised it had to be the Lay of Gil-Galad Lord Elrond had spoken of. He must have requested it despite the painful memory.

By the time he hurried towards the sound of players, he only managed to catch the words of the last verse. He stood outside the circle of elves all sitting or standing listening to the players. A lone elf sang the Lay, her bell-clear voice filled with melancholy.

But long ago he rode away,  
and where he dwelleth none can say;  
for into darkness fell his star  
in Mordor where the shadows are.

He shivered at the name, wondering where it was - was this where Barad-dûr and her Lord lay? A shadow passed over his mind, and he grew restless without cause. It was impossible not to be reminded of his own fall, taken for a star. How close had he come to that darkness, he wondered. How close was he now? He had no real cause for concern - the elves around him were sad but calm, and the night would be a warm one with no sign of a storm. Agitated at his own inexplicable state, he retreated to his rooms and tried to sleep. But his dreams were dark and indistinct, leaping at him unexpectedly.

-:-

Extra Notes: The Fall of Gil-Galad is sung by Sam in Fellowship (the book), and was translated by Bilbo. It is one of my absolute favourites from Tolkien. So when I decided to pick Aeglos for Loki, I knew I would eventually have to reference the song at some point.


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